At this moment, the personage whom the Goblin designated as Sir Slasher-Cut-Em-Up finished his conversation with his younger colleague, and both gentlemen smiled pleasantly, not to say flirtatiously, at the grey-gowned nurse.
“Twelve o’clock to-morrow will do very well,” said Sir Slasher—” We shall leave you to make all the preliminary arrangements, Nurse Drat-Em-All. He’s asleep just now, I see!”
“I’m not asleep!” — gurgled McNason, feebly.
But Sir Slasher apparently did not hear. He stood by the bedside, smiling blandly, his hands clasped behind him under his coat-tails.
“One of the richest men in the world!” he ejaculated, appreciatively—” Dear me, dear me! Ah well, well! Has he any family?”
“None,” — said Nurse Drat-Em-All—” He had one son, I believe, who died in childhood.”
She spoke primly, her lips opening and shutting on her words like a kind of mechanical valve. But while she spoke she flashed her eyes at the younger doctor with a feline cajolery in their hard brown depths.
“Then who,” murmured Sir Slasher, thoughtfully—” Who is to carry on his vast business concerns? Who is to inherit his enormous fortune?”
No answer was forthcoming to this profound proposition.
Sir Slasher thereupon removed his hands from under his coat-tails, and consulted his watch.
“I must be going,” — he said— “You will attend to all that is necessary, Nurse?”
“Certainly, Sir Slasher!”
“I shall bring Dr. Choke-Em-Off with me to-morrow — and I think — yes, I think” — here he looked benevolently considerate—” that taking into account Mr. McNason’s great wealth and important position, and — er — also — er — the very great difficulty and uncertainty of the operation, Dr. Choke-Em-Off’s fee should be doubled! He is one of our beat anaesthetists — what do you say, Nurse?”
Sir Slasher had a delightful smile, and he was smiling delightfully now. Nurse Drat-Em-All responded to the charm of it.
“There is no doubt that it is justifiably a case of double fees all round!” she said, her own smile breaking into a giggle.
“Exactly!” And Sir Slasher shed a fatherly glance upon her—” And our young friend here” — at this he laid a hand on his fellow-surgeon’s shoulder—” Our young and brilliant friend will also have an opportunity of displaying his skill and securing his reward! Of course,” — here he became portentously business-like—” it will be advisable to get the patient to sign the required cheques in advance, — there will be no difficulty about that I should imagine! Because you see, — afterwards!”
“Ah! — afterwards!” echoed the younger doctor, speaking for the first time.
Sir Slasher tried to look grave, but failed in the attempt.
“Afterwards,” he said pleasantly, “the worthy millionaire may not be in a condition to sign anything! I think” — and he paused, stroking his smooth double chin—” I think, Nurse, he should be told that the operation is a grave, very grave one, in case — these things sometimes happen! — in case he has not made a will — or — let us say in case he might wish to make some last testamentary gift — to — er — to me? — or — or to you? — or to anyone else who may have rendered him a service?”
“I’ll see that he does all that he ought to do!” said Nurse Drat-Em-All, with some severity—” I like my patients to be prepared for the worst!”
“Quite right — quite right!” murmured Sir Slasher—” But prepare him gently — quite gently, Nurse! By degrees — and cautiously! I have known cases where patients, getting too much alarmed, have made their escape from a home like this by jumping out of the window! And strange to say they have — some of them — escaped uninjured! — and stranger still, they have recovered and lived many years! Most curious and remarkable! But nerves are unaccountable things!” Here he paused and looked again at McNason. “He sleeps very soundly! I should say he was older than he admits! Ah well, well! We shall see! But I very much fear there’s no chance for his recovery!”
“Then why not spare the knife and let him live as long as Nature will allow him i” asked the younger doctor suddenly.
Sir Slasher looked amazed and reproachful.
“My dear sir! I was called in by Mr. McNason, and I must do my best for such a very wealthy man! Besides, I think his is a very complex case, and likely to prove most helpful and instructive. To-morrow at twelve o’clock, Nurse! Good-evening!”
And Sir Slasher Cut-Em-Up walked softly out of the room, followed by his colleague. Nurse Drat-Em-All, with a casual glance at the bed where Josiah McNason lay, settled her cap more coquettishly on her head and tripped after them.
“They’re gone!” said the Goblin then, sliding down from the pillow and sitting astride on Josiah’s recumbent body—” But Nurse Drat-Em-All will soon be back!”
“I don’t want her back!” groaned McNason, making an attempt to draw up the bed-quilt in order to cover his eyes, in which effort he did not succeed—” I don’t want anything! Leave me alone!”
“Sorry I can’t oblige you!” replied the Goblin—” I can’t leave YOU alone till you leave YOURSELF alone! And Nurse Drat-Em-All must come back to attend to her duties! She’s got a lot of things to do to you!”
McNason peered over the extreme edge of the bed-quilt.
“A lot of things to do to me?” he echoed, whimperingly—” What — what will she do?”
“She will wash you first!” said the Goblin, briskly—” All over! Oh, such a nice wash! Made of carbolic disinfectant! And you will be so clean — outside you!”
Josiah closed his eyes shudderingiy.
“And then you will be put into a new flannel night-shirt,” — went on the Goblin—” And you will perhaps be allowed a cup of hot milk or beef tea. And when you’re nice and warm and clean and cosy, Nurse Drat-Em-All will come and tell you to prepare for your end!”
“No — no!” cried McNason—” I’m not ill! — and I’m not ready — !”
“You are ill!” declared the Goblin, firmly—” And never mind about not being ready for your end. Nurse Drat-Em-All will make you ready! She’ll tell you what a very serious and expensive matter it will be to slice you up scientifically to-morrow — and she will ask you where your cheque book is—”
“I won’t tell her — I won’t—” stuttered McNason.
“Oh yes, you will! Shell get it out of you! And then you’ll write a big cheque for Sir Slasher Cut-Em-Up, and another for the matron of this happy ‘Home’ — and for Dr. Choke-Em-Off, — and for everybody else who wants a fee for sending you into the next world — and then — then you’ll be allowed to sleep if you can! And tomorrow — to-morrow—”
Here the Goblin paused. Josiah raised himself up on his hard pillow and looked at it with appealing eyes.
“Not so very long ago,” — it went on presently, in a kind of sing-song monotone, “A man I knew went to a ‘Home’ something like this, only not quite so up-to-date and expensive. He was a bold, kindly, genial creature, fond of life and life’s pleasures. Something went wrong with him and he consulted the doctors. They told him he had an internal ailment, but they could not tell whether it was ‘malignant’ or not, till they had, so to speak, ‘opened him up.’ He felt strong and hopeful, and consented to the operation. The surgeons did their work — and how they did it, of course, only they can tell. But it was, according to their own report, ‘successful.’ In forty-eight hours the warmblooded personality of the man that had talked, smiled and jested with his own danger, was a mere lump of cold, stiff clay. He had relatives — oh yes! — he had children for whom he had worked all his life. What did they do? Why, they allowed his body which had so lately pulsated with love for them all, to be taken away from the ‘home’ in which he died, and laid in a dismal vault without a single soul to keep watch by it at night or say a prayer! The world is growing callous concerning the dead, you know! And they don’t keep corpses in ‘Homes.’ When a man dies und
er an operation he must be ‘removed’ by his family at once. In this case the poor fellow was ‘removed’ to a chill city mortuary. His children, warm and comfortable, ate food as usual and discussed the funeral business. Down in the cold and darkness lay the once animated, cheery, generous-hearted man, alone — all, all, alone! — shut out from the movement and light of natural things, with no loving eyes to keep watch by his mortal remains, — no tender hands to lay flowers on his lifeless breast! — and yet sentimentalists talk about family love and home affections! Oh hoo-roo!” And the Goblin actually had tears like sparks of fiery dew in its eyes—” You ought to be glad you’ve got no children, McNason! You’ve got HONEY instead! And MONEY will enable you to have your body carried home grandly to your country seat by special train! You can be laid out in state if you like! — provided you give the order before Sir Slasher Cut-Em-Up arrives tomorrow — candles burning all round you and wreaths on your coffin, — it’s all done for MONEY! — and you can have a most expensive funeral, — a beautiful mausoleum, — a marble monument and a lying Epitaph! All for MONEY! MONEY’S a great thing, McNason! — and you’ve got it! Oh Beelzebub! You’ve got it! But you’ve got nothing else!”
At this juncture McNason suddenly sat up in bed.
“Yes, I have!” he said, with a kind of trembling eagerness—” I’ve got something else! I’ve got YOU! And I want — I want to make a friend of YOU!”
The Goblin opened its round eyes so wide that they threatened to fall out.
“Oh, you do, do you?” it queried doubtfully—” That’s odd! Now what put that into your head?”
“I don’t know — I don’t know!” stammered McNason agitatedly—” But I think — I feel — you don’t really want to do me any harm! Look here! — Get me out of this! Take me away — take me away — take me home!”
The Goblin took off its conical cap and examined the interior of that head gear with critical gravity. Its hair, in the all round style, seemed blacker and stickier than ever, and its features worked into the most alarming contortions.
“Take you home!” it echoed—” What! Before Nurse Drat-Em-All comes back?”
“Yes — yes!” and Josiah wrung his hands imploringly; “Take me away at once — !”
“But you’re ill!” said the Goblin—” You’re very ill!”
“I’m not!”
“You ARE! You’ve got a cancer!”
“I haven’t!”
“You HAVE! It’s called Selfishness! It is eating your life away,’ — poisoning your blood — rotting your Soul!”
“I’ll get rid of it! — I’ll — I’ll cut it out myself!” — and in his excitement McNason caught hold of the Goblin’s claw and pressed it fervently—” I will — I will! Only take me out of this! Give me a chance!”
“You’re feverish too!” continued the Goblin, severely. “Your temperature has gone up to the very highest point of Fraudulent Philanthropy!”
“I know — I know! — but it will be all right! — only let me get home, and you shall see — you shall see — !”
Here his voice ebbed away into a kind of choked sob.
“And I’m not sure that you haven’t got eczema,” — pursued the Goblin—” Your snobbish hankering after a Peerage will probably break out in a rash all over you!”
“It won’t!” said McNason—” It shan’t!
I’ll — I’ll do whatever you tell me —— !”
“Oh, will you really though!” And the Goblin sniffed the air with its terribly plastic nose very dubiously—” Do you mean it? Or is it all funk? And only because you want to get away from Sir Slasher Cut-Em-Up? I don’t believe in death-bed repentances!”
“It’s not — it’s not a death-bed repentance!” wailed McNason—” I don’t want this to be my death-bed! I want to die in my own home!”
“Ah! So does Willie Dove!” said the Goblin. “Perhaps you can understand now why his wife doesn’t want to send him to a Hospital!”
McNason shuddered. Time was flying fast, he thought — that cruel-looking Nurse Drat-Em-All would be coming back immediately! — and with an imploring cry he held out his arms to the Goblin.
“Ah, be good to me!” he moaned—” Take me home! I’ll promise anything — anything!”
“It’s easy to promise,” — said the Goblin, “Anyone can do that! But will you keep your promises? For instance, will you think of some other few things besides YOURSELF?”
McNason lifted his trembling hands in the fashion of one invoking the gods.
“I will! — I will!”
“You are a Man of MONEY,” — pursued the Goblin—” And with all the MONEY you possess will you think of POVERTY? Of the thousands-and thousands of human beings made of the same flesh and blood as yourself, who perish every year for lack of food? Of infants starving? Of patient genius, toiling for mere pence? Of delicate women working their lives away in order to provide sustenance for their children? Will you think of all these, and help them when you can? — not grudgingly, nor patronisingly, — but with a full heart and a generous spirit?”
Faintly as a bride at the altar, McNason murmured “I will!”
“You are a Man of Luxury,” — went on the Goblin—” Will you think of CRIME?
Of the woeful sins which wretched men are driven to commit through want and misery? Of the prisons, crowded with branded human creatures, who in nine cases out of ten owe their guilt to the evil persuasions of others more cunning, more treacherous and powerful than themselves! Of unhappy mothers, gone mad with despair, who have murdered their children rather than see them die of hunger! Of girls, once innocent, — betrayed, ruined and deserted by the villainy and cruelty of such devils in the shape of men that even Hell might close its doors against them! Will you think of CRIME? — and, thinking of it, will you remember that it is often the sight of a man like you, — over-prosperous, over-proud, — that helps to drive the poor into the labyrinths of envy, hatred, drink, murder and suicide! Will you think of CRIME? — and do your best to fight against it with all your influence, all your power and all your MONEY?”
And at this juncture the Goblin looked positively terrific. McNason quailed before its Gorgon eyes, and shivered.
“I — I will try!” he murmured.
The Goblin rose on its skeleton toes and lifted its skeleton arms. Its voice grew loud and shrill.
“You are a Man of Commerce and Calculation,” — it said—” Will you think of WAR! Think of nation rising against nation and kingdom against kingdom! The beginning of sorrows! Think of widows and orphans! — think of thousands of dying and dead men! Of human blood springing hot to heaven and clamouring for vengeance! Of burning cities and wrecked ships! Hark! Listen to the rush of waters and the roll of guns!”
And now, as the Goblin spoke, there came a distant booming sound upon the air, mingled with the measured tramp of many marching feet, and hundreds of male voices strongly uplifted in defiant chorus:
“WE sweep the seas!
Our glorious flag unfurl’d
From North to South, from East to West
Shines o’er the world!
Our cannon’s bellowing thunder
Roars with the roaring waves —
For Britain’s foes wild ocean holds
Nothing but graves!
“WE sweep the seas! —
On waters far and near
Our signals flash, and write in fire
OUR meanings clear!
No other land, no other race
Can match our British men! —
They’ve won a thousand fights before,
They’ll win again!
“WE sweep the seas! —
We rule the restless foam!
We struggle not for place or pelf,
We fight for Home!
Loud let the shout of ‘Victory!’
Ring on the fav’ring breeze, —
Down with the foe ten fathoms deep!
WE sweep the seas!”
“War!” said the Goblin, tossing its arms wildly as the sounds died away, “War! Accursed, yet triumphant War!
Think of it, YOU, with your millions! Can you, will you think of it without SPECULATING in the wide-spread misery it involves? Without making more MONEY on the traffic in blood? Without lending yourself and your wealth to wicked Contracts by which you steal from your Country’s government and line your own pockets? Can you be true to the land in which you live? Can you, — will you boldly refuse to sell material assistance for your own personal advantage to your Country’s foes?”
Lashed into a fit of nervous desperation McNason almost shouted:
“I can! I can! And I will!” Whereupon the Goblin put on its conical cap.
“You are coming round, McNason!” it observed encouragingly—” You are really coming round! I think you are better! Your temperature is lower — nearer the normal Principle! Principle is an excellent pulse — it’s firm and steady, and keeps the whole body going wholesomely! Very few have it nowadays, and as a natural consequence the statistics of insane and diseased persons show an alarming increase! Now,” — this with an oblique but not unfriendly leer—” Are you sure you feel well enough to go home?”
“Sure — sure!” — and Josiah began to scramble out of bed in his excitement— “I’ll get my clothes on in a minute—”
“Won’t you wait for Nurse Drat-Em-All?” suggested the Goblin with a chuckle, “She’ll be back directly!”
“No — no — NO!” Here his voice faltered and died away as he discovered to his terror that he had no power to put his feet to the floor, nor could he reach his clothes. “Oh, I am so helpless!” he wailed—” So feeble and helpless! Oh dear, oh dear! What shall I do!”
“Have a split soda!” said the Goblin—” In this dear sweet ‘Home’ it’s only sixpence! But if you put a B in it, it’s two shillings!”
Half mad with impatience, Josiah wriggled about in the bed, turning his imploring eyes on the relentless Goblin, who, perched on the quilt, was beginning to elongate itself in the most leisurely manner.
Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli Page 937